


Accidental Adoption

by AspiringArtist



Category: Original Work
Genre: Abuse, Assassins, Gen, Murder, Origin Story
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-05
Updated: 2018-06-05
Packaged: 2019-05-18 02:41:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,533
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14844069
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AspiringArtist/pseuds/AspiringArtist





	Accidental Adoption

_Crunch, crunch. Crunch, crunch._ Those were the sounds of his boots crushing the snow underneath them. Swift footsteps emerged from them, their owner in a hurry to get the journey over with. Occasional low sighs and grunts croaked from out of his throat as he neared a certain red brick house. Said house seemed fairly old, various stains and marks on the front and the yard. He stepped past dead, frosted grass, avoiding some bricks in the backyard as well. Was that a burn mark on the garage? Never-mind that, he needed to keep his mind on the task at hand. That he did, keeping to the shadows and making his way quickly to the house. 

He slipped up against the backdoor, careful not to make too much noise. The first thing he noticed were the loud, weak cries of an infant leaking faintly from out the house, the second being the shouts of a man. He knew that voice all too well. It was an old "employee" of his, Marcus D'Angelo. He used to, and still did at that moment, help raise money to their "organization" by selling various drugs to the addicted civilians of their small town, such as marijuana, heroin, and cocaine. That's kind of why he was there. See, Marcus had been getting high off of his supply, much to the dislike of the Boss. With that being said, he was sent out to deal with the problem. Successfully breaking into the house (it wasn't hard, the door was unlocked and somewhat ajar), he scanned the foreign area.

He was met with a dimly-lit kitchen, various needles and burnt spoons astray on counter-tops. Cockroaches skittered away into various cracks and crevices, going past and even under things such as baby bottles and clothes left on the counters. An old table sat in the corner of it by a high and slim window, knocked-over baby food spilled out onto it. Lastly, a refrigerator and stove sat next to each other, the refrigerator left open and the stove a mess. Both had various stains on them, ones he didn't want or needed to question. Disgusted, he pressed onward.

Entering a living room in a similar shape of the kitchen, the yelling and cries became clearer. He then realized they were coming from down a dark hallway. He turned his gaze down said hallway, one door to the left side left open and the other two closed. Reaching down onto his waist-belt, he took out a pistol. He checked to make sure his silencer was secure before cautiously heading down the hallway. 

Suddenly a woman emerged from out the room, swaying to and fro. She was in very poor condition, her short blond hair frayed and her dress seemingly old and dirty. Various burn marks were on said flowered dress, patches and scabs on her arms. She held something similar that looked like wrapped cigarette, otherwise known as a blunt. She seemed not to notice him, yelling into the doorway. 

"Fuck you, Maaaaarcus! You're the one who nutted inside me! Now he's  **your** problem!" She yelled seemingly at Marcus, coughing some. 

"Fuck you too, bitch! You said that with the last one!" Marcus yelled back at her, stepping into view. 

God, they did this before? No, he can't think about things such as that. He took this time to aim his pistol at Marcus first, since he'd be the hardest to deal with. If he shot the woman first, then Marcus would probably retaliate against him with a large object or something similar to that. He knows what Marcus can do and how ruthless he is, he's seen it before years ago. Once, when he was but a simple drug dealer alongside Marcus, a drug deal went bad and Marcus was shot in the leg. He thought fast and quickly took out a pistol, shooting the other guy in the shoulder and chest. while he tried to get away with his drugs.

_Marcus got up and limped over to the man, who begged for his life. He couldn't even hold his gun right._

_"Please, man, I just needed the stash, I'm sorry, I won't do it again, I-"_

_**BLA-KOW!** Marcus shot the man in the head, grabbing the small little baggie out of his hand and taking his wallet.  
_

_"Fuckin' scumbag," He spat on the lifeless man, walking away and leaving our protagonist wide-eyed._

Never-mind that. He needed to shoot. His job and his life depended on it. He shot at Marcus, the bullet's remains carved into his temple. His blood painted the walls as his eyes went wide, his body flopping onto the floor like a sack of meat. Blood stained the carpet as the woman looked from Marcus to the blank-faced intruder, shrieking at the top of her lungs. The baby's cries somehow got louder as the woman ran into another room, attempting to shut the door. He hurried down the hallway before she could, stopping the door with his foot and pushing his way in. The woman fell, attempting to get back up and escape. He held the woman at gunpoint, watching emotionlessly as she whimpered in front him.

"Pl-Please, don't kill me. I'll do anything, promise!"

He slowly set his gun down, showing some sort of remorse. 

"Run. Now," He ordered.

She quickly brushed past him, running out of the room and forgetting to get her child. Disgusting... He leaned out of the room slightly, aiming his gun at the back of her head.  ** _KA-BLOW._** She slowly dropped to her knees, dropping down onto her face. Her body flopped over onto its side, lifeless eyes staring off into the distance. He watched as she bled out for a moment. He grinned to himself.  _"Dirty bitch,"_   He thought. It was something about seeing his victims slowly step into the gates of hell right in front of him that was euphoric. It was so pleasing to see them helpless underneath him with a gun or a knife pressed up against them. He loved that kind of control. This was all like a game to him. Though life is nothing but a game, is it not? Just hoping to pick the right choices. He slowly stepped out of the room, the baby's cries bringing him back to reality. He stepped past Marcus' body and avoided the blood, walking into the room where the cries came from.

Said room was very empty, nothing in there but an air mattress and other miscellaneous things such as needles and baby clothes. This wasn't the first thing he was met with, however. The stench of weed, urine, poop seared out of the room, causing him to gag. The actual baby laid on the bed. He thought about his options a moment. He could just leave the baby here to die and complete his mission now. Or save it and take it with him. He thought for a moment. If he brought the baby along with him, then what was he gonna do? Take care of it? He's definitely not fit to do that. He can barely take care of himself. He's killed many people before, so this death shouldn't phase him much. He'd never dealt with babies before, though. Sweet, innocent babies. ...Fuck it. His conscious, for once, got the better of him. He can just take the baby to an orphanage when he gets a chance. Babies are too innocent to be left for dead. Their parents are not. He went over to the baby slowly, examining the infant. It, or he as the woman referred to it as, had noticeable burn marks on his still-prickly skin. This indicated he was still a newborn.. He had on a onesie with noticeable brown and yellow marks at the bottom, presumably the source of the urine and poop smells. Having on nothing else, he lay there helpless, wailing his little heart out. His voice seemed a bit hoarse.

Well, there was no buts about what he had to do now. He slowly picked the infant up. Frowning at how cold he was, he shushed the baby quietly.

"Shh.. I'm here. Tyde's here," 

The baby seemed to quiet down to soft whimpers and whines, his wide, blue eyes focusing on Tyde. Tyde smiled softly at the baby, taking him out the room. He proceeded to search the house for anything useful, his gloves coming in handy. On his way out of the hall, he noticed the blunt the woman was holding had burned a hole into the ground and even started a small fire. He cursed quietly to himself, stomping the fire out and moving on. He found a large blanket, in which he wrapped the baby with. He also took some clothes and bottles, making a mental reminder to wash everything (including the baby!). Without looking back,Tyde proceeded to go out the backdoor and into the cold. He started walking back out the way he came to meet a black van at the end of the street. Looking down at the now silent and sleeping infant in his arms, he sighed. Who would've thought of this? Tyde, an assassin, taking in an abused infant. Huh.


End file.
